Sunday, July 27, 2014

Wondered if we are writing poetry or all huddling in

These photographs were taken at the railway station in Pasila, when we were starting our trip north to Kilpisjärvi in Lapland. It was the first time I used the car carrier on the night train, 800 km to Rovaniemi.

I have been reading Hollywood by Bukowski, and like his writing more than ever. Earlier I thought he just pretended to be writing, but now I know he really worked at it. And it is deeper, much deeper than I thought it is. I don't know why it is so that my favorite writers, such as Thomas Bernhard, all seem to be pessimists. Bukowski fits there.

Bukowski filled up his non-writing time with drinking and gambling, and getting into trouble in various ways. Earlier I thought I'm very different from Bukowski, as I drink very little, and I have never even played the lottery. But now I'm not longer sure there is a difference.

(Posting title is from the poem I Am Visited by an Editor and a Poet by Charles Bukowski.)

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